


A Storybook Story

by AerialLinguist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Princess Bride, Canon-Typical Violence, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AerialLinguist/pseuds/AerialLinguist
Summary: A very young Princess Allura is sick. A very busy King Alfor is not around. A very dramatic space uncle decides to fill in.Hear the story of Keith and Lance as they try desperately to find each other in the face of a universe that is trying to tear them apart. A story of plots! Schemes! Royalty! Fighting! Torture! Revenge! Monsters! Chases! Escapes! True love! Miracles!Princess Bride AU except its scifi because I feel like it





	1. The Princess

Young Princess Allura lay in a pitiful puddle on her bed, coughing weekly from within her cocoon of blankets as she flipped through holographic images projected above her.

The sound of a door being pushed open had her immediately perking up only to sigh in disappointment and turn back to the projections. It was only her mother slipping through the door to check on her. The click of her heels echoed as she crossed the large room to Allura’s canopied bed and sat down beside her.

“Hello mother,” she said without taking her eyes off the colorful pictures. This was followed by another coughing fit.

The older woman brushed back the girl’s long hair to feel her forehead. She frowned slightly at the warmth.

“Did the pod at least help a little bit?” she asked.

“Yes. I am feeling a bit better,” she paused, finally turning away from the hologram to look hopefully at her mother, “Will father be visiting today?”

“I’m sorry darling, you know how busy he is. But you know who is visiting?”

She eyed the queen with suspicion, “Who?”

“Uncle Coran.”

“Mother,” she whined and fixed on her very best moping face, “Can't you tell him that I’m sick?”

The queen brushed her hand through her hair again.

“You are sick, that's why he's here.”

“He'll pinch my cheek. I hate that.”

The queen laughed, “Maybe he won't.”

And with that, none other than Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe himself burst into the room. The door slammed into the wall with the force of his entrance and his cape billowed out behind him as he crossed to the princess’s bedside.

“Hey! How's the sickie? Heh?” he said, pinching her cheek. She shot a pleading look to her mother. The queen ignored it and got to her feet.

“I think I'll leave you two pals,” she said with a smile and beat a hasty retreat out the door.

Traitor.

Coran however did not seem to notice Allura’s devastation at her mother’s betrayal as he reached into the folds of his cape and pulled out a small package.

“I brought you a special present.”

Interest peaked, and betrayal forgotten, Allura sat up in her bed, disturbing the massive blanket pile.

“What is it?”

Coran handed it to her, “Open it up!”

She tore into the paper only to reveal a… book. She stared at it dumbfounded.

“It's a book!” he crowed.

“I know that Coran, but… a book?”

“That's right, little Princess. When I was your age, holograms were called books. And this is a special one. It was the book my father used to read to me when I was sick, and I used to read it to Alfor. And today, I'm gonna read it to you.”

Allura was skeptical but she asked, “Does it have any politics? Father says I have to learn about politics for when I’m older.”

“Are you kidding?” Coran began gesturing wildly, striking a pose with each word. “Plots! Schemes! Royalty! Fighting! Torture! Revenge! Monsters! Chases! Escapes! True love! Miracles! Plus, this book is a documentation of history that is definitely absolutely 100% historically accurate.”

Allura nodded her head in consideration before reaching up to swipe away the hologram then settling back into the blanket pile.

“It doesn't sound too bad. I'll try to stay awake.”

“Oh. Well, thank you very much, Princess. It's very nice of you. Your vote of confidence is overwhelming,” he said with a humorous glint in his eyes.

He gave a flourish of his cape and sat down on the edge of her bed, “All right,” he flipped the book open to the first page and began, twirling his mustache as he spoke.

“The Princess Bride, by S. Morgenstern. Chapter one. Once upon a time, a young half-Galran was raised in a small shack in the desert in the middle of quiznacking nowhere on a planet called Earth.”

Allura gasped, “Coran! That’s a bad word!”

He winked at her, “Don’t tell your mother, it’ll be our little secret.”

She giggled and let him continue.

“His favorite pastimes were riding his hoverbike and tormenting the shop boy that worked nearby. His name was Keith and the shop boy’s name was Lance, but they never called each other that.”

Coran looked up at Allura, “Isn't that a wonderful beginning?”

She tried not to roll her eyes, “Sure Coran.”


	2. The Shop Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so the story begins

Keith cut the engine of his hoverbike and dismounted. The dust settled around him outside the general store. The sun beat down, heating the metal of his bike to the point where he had to wear gloves to keep it from burning his hands. The fingerless gloves also made him look cool he thought. He was wrong.

A bell rang as he entered the shop and the boy at the counter looked up.

“Oh, hey Mullet! You’re back again. What can I get you?” He greeted cheerily.

“Hey… um.”

“The names Lance. We went to school together,” He deadpanned, “We have this conversation every week.”

Keith just stared at him, “Anyway, I need my bike tuned up, do you know where I can get that done?”

Lance sighed, “If it's just a tune up, I can do it.”

“Great, I need it by noon.”

“As you wish.”

Keith paid and left. That’s how most of their interaction went. Keith would make a request and Lance would say ‘as you wish.’ Keith was pretty sure he meant it sarcastically.

***

The door chimed, and Keith entered. Lance perked up and turned his blue gaze on him.

“Hey Mullet.”

“Hey… shop boy.”

“Okay at this point I swear you’re doing it on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Surprisingly, Lance laughed at that, “God, you’re such an ass.”

“Hey, I’m a paying customer!”

“That definitely does not excuse you from being an ass. In fact, I think it actually enhances your ass-ness.”

Now it was Keith’s turn to laugh, “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

“So, what can I get you?”

“Oh, right. I need power cables, at least three meters long… please.”

“As you wish.” Lance said. But the way he said it this time was different. It was almost fond. But maybe that was just Keith imagining things, he probably said that to all his customers. He paid for the cables and left just as another customer came in. Keith swung his leg over his bike and was about to leave when he glanced back through the window of the shop. The customer, a girl, sauntered up to the counter. She gave Lance a coy smile and an appreciative look. Keith shook his head and rode away.

That night Keith lay awake, the sound of Lance’s laugh ringing in his ears along with the words ‘as you wish.’ He rolled over and shoved his head into the pillow trying to will himself asleep. Now the girl was staring at Lance. He turned over again. She was still staring. What was with that look? It was interested. Clearly, something about the shop boy interested her. Facts were facts. But what? The shop boy had eyes like the sea before a storm, but who cared about eyes? And he had nicely styled hair, if you liked that sort of thing. And he was broad enough in the shoulders, but not all that broad. And his skin was perfect and tan, but plenty of people were tan. And he wasn't that much taller than Keith himself either, although he was taller.

Keith sat up in bed. It must be his teeth. The shop boy did have good teeth, give credit where credit was due. White and perfect, particularly set against the sun-tanned face. That was it. He’s seen other people at the shop smile at Lance like that too. That must have been why. Keith lay back down again to fall asleep closing his eyes and _people don’t look at other people like that because of their teeth._

He opened his eyes, “Oh quiznack.”

It was a very long night.

***

The next morning Keith arrived at the shop before it opened. He stood kind of awkwardly outside fiddling with the hem of his jacket while the sun rose behind him.

Finally, he saw movement in the shop and a familiar and curious face peered out at him from behind the glass door as he unlocked it and flipped the sign so that it read OPEN. He poked his head out the door.

“You’re here early,” He said with a raised eyebrow, but shrugged and beckoned him in, “Man, how are you not dying in that getup every day?”

“What?”

“I’m already sweltering in a tank top and yet you’re in a full black ensemble and still looking fine. How do you do it?”

Keith couldn’t get himself to respond. His brain had caught on the last word and short circuited, puzzling over the meaning. Lance seemed to catch on to this and dove for a recovery.

“I mean looking fine as in you’re not dying of heatstroke not that you look good, not that you don’t look good, I mean you do look good but that's not what I meant, and it is really way too early for this.” He finally took a breath and seemed to admit defeat, “What Can I do for you at this ungodly hour?”

Keith froze he hadn’t thought this far ahead in his plan.

“Um… can I get a glass of water?” He asked, knowing full well that there was a full water bottle in his bike bag at that very moment.

Lance met his gaze.

“As you wish.”

Quiznack it, “We should get coffee sometime.” He had meant it to be a question, but it came out as more of a statement.

But Lance smiled, “As you wish.”

Coffee turned into dinner and dinner turned into breakfast and breakfast turned into many many meals.

Keith’s favorite were the ones at Lance’s house. His mom would cook, his dad would tell stories that made Lance cringe, and his siblings would ask Keith questions that he really had no idea how to answer. And afterwards they would sit on the front porch, their knees brushing together. The quiet of the desert broken by the buzz of streetlights and the hum of the radio coming from inside.

Keith hummed along with it, content. “I want it to always be like this.”

Lance leaned his shoulder against his and said softly, “As you wish.”

“You always say that but what do you mean.”

Lance looked down sheepishly, “Nothing.”

“Tell me what you mean.” Keith said.

Lance looked up and met his gaze. His eyes really were like the sea before a storm, there was so much hidden just below the surface. “As you wish.”

And Keith understood.

“I love you too.”

_“Coran,” Allura interrupted, “I haven’t heard anything about politics. It's all been about aliens and commoners.”_

_“Now Allura, a queen must understand the plights of the common folk if she is to lead them.”_

_“Yes Coran, but when does it get good?”_

_“Don’t get your braid in a twist and let me read.”_

Unfortunately, working part time at a shop for less than minimum wage isn’t conducive to starting a life together. And Keith’s method of living off the small sum of money his father had left him when he died didn’t really work either. But Lance had a plan.

"I’ve been taking classes at the Garrison and I just got back the results of my last test. I passed! I’m gonna be a cargo pilot!” Lance exclaimed.

Keith frowned, “Do you really want to be a cargo pilot?”

“Well no, I’d rather be fighter class, but I didn’t score high enough for that. But hey cargo pilot still pays better than shop boy.”

“Is it selfish of me that I’m kind of glad you’re not fighter class?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“Sorry.”

“I suppose I’ll have to forgive you.” Lance said, bumping his shoulder. But the humor quickly died in his eyes. “The thing is, I’m gonna have to leave for a while. Once I get assigned, I’m gonna be gone for a long time.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

On the day that Lance left, they held each other for a very long time, both trying to keep back tears.

“I fear I'll never see you again.” Keith mumbled into Lance’s shoulder.

“Of course you will.”

“But what if something happens to you?”

“Hey hey, none of that.” Lance pulled back, so he could look Keith in the eye, “Hear this now: I will come for you.”

“But how can you be sure?”

“This is true love. You think this happens every day?” Lance said with his own dopey grin.

And with that Lance turned to go but Keith caught his arm. “Without even a kiss?”

There have been five great kisses since 1642 B.C., when Saul and Delilah Korn's inadvertent discovery swept across Western civilization. (Before then couples hooked thumbs.) And the precise rating of kisses is a terribly difficult thing, often leading to great controversy, because although everyone agrees with the formula of affection times purity times intensity times duration, no one has ever been completely satisfied with how much weight each element should receive. But on any system, there are five that everyone agrees deserve full marks.

Well, this one was definitely a contender for spot number six.

For months Lance would write Keith letters which he would then read to Lance’s family over dinner. (Lance’s mother had just about adopted him by now.) Together they would laugh at his quips and his stories. At how well he did or didn’t get along with the rest of the crew. Then Lance’s mother would lean back and say something like, “Now Keith, you really ought to eat more, you look like a stick.” Or “Now Keith, you really ought to use conditioner, your hair is a mess.” Or, “Now Keith, I’m so glad my son met you.” They taught him to take better care of himself.

He went back to school. He even managed to be moderately friendly to his classmates, talking the ears off anyone who asked about his love life. Keith loved Lance so much which is probably why it hit him so hard when Lance died.

_“Wait what?”_

It was Lance’s family that told him. He stopped by one day for dinner and found them all sitting at the table red-eyed and stone-faced.

Lance’s mother whispered, "Without warning. At night."

"What?" from Keith.

"An engine malfunction," said his father.

Keith stood perfectly still

Quiet in the room.

"He's been hurt then?” Keith managed.

“No,” His mother said.

"The whole ship exploded," his father said. "There were no survivors."

"Oh," Keith said.

Quiet in the room.

Keith ran. He thought that maybe they called after him, but he didn’t stop. He ran into the dessert and neither slept nor ate for days.

All he spoke was a promise.

“I will never love again.”

He never did.


	3. The Prince

“WHAT? CORAN,  _ WHAT- _ why are you skipping pages?”

“It’s boring. Hold on, let me get to the good part.”

“But it just got good! Are they going to sue the ship manufacturers? Was it a foreign company? Is it going to start an international incident?”

“What? No. This is an exciting story.”

“I think trade wars are exciting.” the princess grumbled.

“You spend too much time with your tutors. Besides, it’s just some history on the Galran empire. You know, back before your father made an alliance with them and the Galra and Altea were at war with each other every other deca-phoeb. Well. This story takes place in between those wars. Aha, here we go,” He finally seemed to find the page he was looking for and began again.

“Prince Lotor was a snake of a man, as elegant as he was deadly.”

“Don’t I have a cousin named Lotor?” 

“It's a common name, don’t question it.”

He walked like a cat, softly and without a sound and probably if he had wanted to be a ballet dancer, he would have been wonderfully talented at it. But he didn't want to be a ballet dancer. It was hard to pin down exactly what the prince wanted. He was next in line for the throne but wasn't in any particular hurry to be emperor. He certainly had an invested interest in the preservation of ancient knowledge but he wasn’t exactly an archaeologist. He wanted magic but he refused to interact with the one woman he knew that could actually use magic. Perhaps, the problem was that he didn’t like anyone. He had no love for the Galra people. Less love for ancient peoples. And even less love, bordering on hatred, for those he was related to. Everything took second place in his affections. 

What he wanted was control. What he loved was power.

He made a point participating in gladiatorial matches on a near-daily basis. At first, he participated in the matches held on his homeworld but these soon grew tiresome as there were few who could equal him in skill, let alone best him. So he began to venture out and seek challengers in distant galaxies. He loved every bit of it. It was death chess and he was the intergalactic grand master.

He was locked in a battle with a mighty Mu warrior when he was called home. The creature’s ears were finally beginning to droop, a sure sign that it was weakening. It managed to find some reserved strength and took a swipe at Lotor with its massive scaled paws. The prince sidestepped the attack easily and spun, making a slash at its heels as it burled past. A woman’s voice cut through the fight.

"There is news from Daibazaal," Acxa called to him from outside the ring.

From the pit, the Prince replied. "Can it not wait?"

"For how long?" she asked, her tone bored.

The Mu swerved to face him again and charged. Too slow. Lotor dipped under its arms and slid his blade through the tendons of its leg. The Mu crumbled to the floor with a whimper.

"Now, what is all this?" the Prince replied.

“There was a battle.” Acxa said. "I have the report." 

"And?" 

"Your father is dying."

He put the Mu out of its misery with a swift blow.

“Well then, I had best start securing the empire.”

They left quickly. It was a long journey home.

Acxa was a capable and useful soldier. Her official title was bodyguard, since being a prince meant he apparently needed things like that. She was really more of a personal assistant at this point though. Still, she was useful.

“So. Hhow exactly do you plan to do this?”

“I need to gain support. I need soldiers, commanders, people to execute my will.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of loyal Galrans who would follow you.”

“I don’t want Galrans loyal to the empire. That’s dangerous. I need soldiers loyal to me. Other soldiers like you, half-Galran, with little love for the empire.”

She contemplated that for a moment. “I might know someone.”

He turned to look at her, “Do you now?”

***

Acxa took them to a small swap moon in the delta quadrant. It was modest in size; really more of a space farmer’s market than a space mall. 

Lotor decided he would rather not deal with the gratuitous formalities that would come from announcing himself properly to whoever ran the place, so instead they elected to be discreet. 

With a dark cloak to cover his more striking features, he followed Acxa into the crowded streets of the market. The place was busy and thrumming with energy. The dominant species here were a colorful lot, with skin colors ranging from rich bronze to red, but there were plenty of other species too so it wasn’t hard to blend in. Vendors called out their wares, mostly food and handmade goods from the surrounding planets, an Unilu on the street corner juggled blunt-looking knives and children dashed about looking for anyone that might give them free stuff. 

They pretended to shop, but soon made their way to the darker alleys of the market; the sidestreets where there was little foot traffic and anyone selling goods was considerably more questionable. 

Lotor was examining some particularly illegal looking substances when he caught the slightest shift out of the corner of his eye. It was hardly more than a slight displacement of air, but he spun on instinct and felt his hand close around a slender wrist. 

“I suggest you uncloak yourself, my dear.”

The air morphed and then there was a brightly colored woman before him. 

“Oh! You’re a sharp one,” She giggled and pressed a knife against his gut, “I’ll still be taking your purse though.”

“Will you, now?” Without loosening his grip, he brought his other hand around and twisted the blade out of her grasp with ease and was going to bring it against her throat but she was quick and the second she was forced to let go she was twisting and somersaulting out of his grasp, landing beside a hulking woman who had approached during the scuffle. He went to draw his blade, but Acxa chose this moment to cut in.

“Ezor, it’s nice to see you again.”

The original pickpocket dropped her defensive stance and dove at Acxa with a squeal. The prince made no move to defend his assistant but she didn’t seem to mind the grapple that the colorful woman caught her in. 

“Acxa, it’s been  _ years _ ! Where have you been?!?”

“I’ve been around. Picking up jobs and the like.” Acxa said, returning the grapple, “Who’s your friend?”

Ezor released Acxa and gestured towards her companion “Oh, this is Zethrid! She’s like us.” The hulking woman nodded a greeting. “Now who’s yours?” She said conspiratorially. 

Lotor pushed his hood back and let his pale hair spill over his shoulders.

“I am Prince Lotor of Daibazaal, crown prince of the Galra Empire.”

Anyone else on the little sidestreet quickly vanished and Acxa saluted with pride.

The only reaction from the pickpocket, however, was an elbow in her companion’s side and a whispered “See? I told you he looked fancy.”

***

A quick rendezvous with home had them picking up another member of their little party. Narti had been born blind and mute. Her parents had almost killed her, fearing that she could never live the Galran way. Victory or death after all, and surely the blind child would never achieve victory over anything. Lotor would have to agree. He saw no way that this woman could be anything more than a liability. But he soon learned that she had certain… talents that he could appreciate. 

Narti’s parents had taken her to the witch Haggar for help, hoping that she would use her magic to fix their daughter. She did not. But she was able to teach her a way around it. 

Although her association with the witch made Lotor’s skin crawl, it was hard to pass on such a valuable asset. So they took her along.

He had to test them first, see if they could work together. If they could work for him. 

They picked up some reading of a rare metal that they tracked to a distant system. There wasn’t much info on the little blue planet. It had one moon and spun steadily around a yellow dwarf star. The inhabitants were relatively primitive but not too bad off. They hadn’t yet figured out long-range space travel, but their short range was adequate. It would be a good testing ground for his new generals. Especially the official-looking facility that they would be infiltrating.  

He briefed them on their mission and set them down in a remote sector a little ways off from the target. They didn’t want to attract too much attention after all.

They did marvelously. 

Ezor took the lead, camouflaging and easily slipping through the security measures. Acxa and Zethrid took care of the few security guards that got in their way and Narti was quick enough to catch the one that tried to sneakily set off an alarm. One touch from her and he became very helpful, telling them exactly where they needed to go. Zethrid made quick work of the heavy metal door that tried to close on them and soon they had their prize. 

They were almost back to the ship when an explosion threw them all. They regained their footing with varying degrees of grace only to see a hoverbike barreling towards them. They danced out of the way and Acxa took the initiative, shooting at the driver. The bike pivoted and came back around for another go but Narti was ready and came crashing into its side. The bike went skidding across the ground but the rider wouldn’t go down so easily. They sprung back up wielding a knife. 

Lotor regarded him curiously. One against five and he still wasn’t backing down. That was a Galran spirit if he’d ever seen one. And that blade was definitely of Galra make, even if he couldn’t see the hilt.

Acxa sprung forward and the others made to follow her lead but he held them back with a motion of his hand. He wanted to see this. 

The interloper was fast and bold. Relying on instinct and reflex as he dodged around her attacks and wove back in for his own. In contrast, Acxa was calculating and brutal. She clearly had the superior experience and skill. Yet this stranger was holding his own against her even managing to cut a vicious gash into her forearm. That was very interesting. 

When he’d seen enough he released the other women who sprang into action. 

“Don’t kill him.”

He fought valiantly but the fight was over quickly. They secured his arms and knocked him to his knees. His knife abandoned in the dirt.

Lotor approached. “What’s your name?”

The stranger just glared at him. 

“Oh come on I’ve decided I don’t feel like killing you yet. What's your name?”

“Keith.”

“What are you?”

“Human.”

Lotor bent and picked up the knife. The hilt was wrapped in a strip of cloth which he removed. Beneath, the blade glowed. Definitely Galra though he didn’t recognise the symbol on it. 

“Then where’d you get this knife, Keith?”

“None of your business.”

“Fine. Let me guess; you were raised by a single parent and never met the other. You never knew who they were and all you had left of them was a strange knife whose origin you could never quite explain. How’d I do?”

He’d stopped struggling and was staring up at Lotor with wide eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I am Prince Lotor of Daibazaal, crown prince and future emperor of the Galran Empire. That blade was made by my people.” He crouched so that they were eye-level, “I have a proposition for you. I can get you the answers about your heritage you seek, and you will swear loyalty to me and fight as one of my generals.”

“So you’re aliens?”

“Yes.” 

“And you’re going to leave this planet alone and never come back?”

“You have my word.”

“Alright. I have nothing left here anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (and the next one if I ever finish it) inspired by this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gn1g6KS2m90
> 
> Also shout out to lesblep for beta reading for me!


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